Miserable Lie
by WinterStorrm
Summary: Draco really really hates Harry Potter, right?


**Title:** Miserable Lie  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Harry/Draco (brief Draco/Astoria, Harry/Ginny)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> infidelity (not H/D to each other), some angst  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Draco really really hates Harry Potter, right?  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> 3,442  
><strong>Disclaimers:<strong> The characters depicted herein belong to JK Rowling and associated publishers. I make no profit from this endeavour.  
>This is a remix of <strong>khasael<strong>'s drabble Worth It and as such uses some of the dialogue/plot from therein.  
>Also, let us not forget the fic title is blatantly stolen from The Smiths.<br>**Author's notes**: **khasael** you have so many wonderful works to choose from and it took me a long time to settle on 'Worth It' so I hope I did it justice with where it ended up. Thanks to **singlemomsummer** for the beta.

I hate him, I really do. I always have. I hated Harry sodding Potter before I met him because he was famous, and when he refused my hand, it was sealed – my father gave me hell for that rejection and I had failed him yet again. I didn't just hate him after that, I wanted to end him.

Nothing changed over the years. I went out of my way to make his life miserable. I enjoyed making him squirm. One of my favourite memories was the feel of his nose crunching beneath my heel on the train at the start of sixth year.

I hate him now as I hated him then, but now it's different. I want him too. I want him with an intensity that is eating me up inside. I hate this, this _need_ to touch him, to kiss him, to be in his personal space – to be wherever he is. I want him in me, on me, around me. I want his taste on my lips and his scent on my skin.

Fucking Potter; I hate him with every bone in my body, with every breath I take.

Yet, when the kiss happens I can't stop it. I don't want to – we're already in his bedroom, Potter Apparated us there the moment our lips touched. I couldn't say who kissed who first, I'd like to think it was him, but I wouldn't lay my life on it. This was what I have been waiting for; this is my reward for all those months of working with him and fighting this desire. Kissing him hurts, he isn't gentle with me, or I with him. His hands fist in my hair, forcing me closer, and there must be something wrong with me because the pain of that gives me such intense pleasure, filling my cock and making me need him more.

I can actually pinpoint the exact moment things changed between us, right down to the very second. We'd been following a suspect together; one that clearly suspected he was being tailed because he'd paused and turned. I yanked Potter quickly into the nearest doorway and we found ourselves pressed together rather intimately. My eyes met his in the half light and we both stilled – just that one second with one look, and everything had changed between us.

It took weeks from that point to this. I'd tried to pretend it wasn't happening.

I hate this, whatever _this_ is. It's like something is alive beneath my skin, I _want_ and _hate_ and I fucking _burn_ for him.

Potter tastes salty and sweet and already I'm addicted. This is wrong and I'm scared of how much I need it. I pull back, away from the sin of his lips, so wrong in every way… This is _Potter_. I cannot be doing this. I'm an engaged man. The wedding is in less than a month. Astoria is perfect for me: everything a Malfoy should want. I can't do this, I can't –

Potter's eyes are black as he scans my face before rasping, "You're not getting away." His fingers are calloused and rough against my skin and the scrape of them makes me want to give Potter everything.

I can't help it when I burrow my face in Potter's neck and inhale his scent again, I'm pathetic, I can't get enough. This is_wrong_, this is – "Then don't let me," I hear myself say and my mind is whirring, _don't let me go, please, never, ever, let me go. I'm yours._

Potter's hands are shaking as he pushes my robes off my shoulder and starts to bite my neck, his chapped lips leaving a trail of fire as they work their way down to my collarbone and his breath is hot on my skin when he says, "Why the fuck did we wait so long for this?"

I want to say, _because I'm engaged to be married, because I hate you, because you're Harry Potter and I'm Draco Malfoy and we're enemies._ Instead I push into him, desire winning over the truth and the logic that I should care about but really, really don't. "Because we're idiots; or because we both know we shouldn't be doing this, one of the two."

Merlin, I want him, I want him inside me, and I want to be inside him. I want to own him, make him mine. I want to mark him, show the world he belongs to me. I want to lick every inch of him. "Too many clothes," I say, my fingers scrabbling at his robes, seeking my own entrance to his skin, to his body. I want him more than I've ever wanted anyone or any_thing_. I need him.

Somehow I walk us backwards towards the bed, slowly, leaving a trail of clothing in our wake. His clothes, mine, who cares as long as they are on the floor and not on us anymore. We fall onto the bed, and when Potter takes control and pins my hands above my head, I don't even care that it looks like it's going to be me getting fucked first. We're both completely naked now and his long red cock is fucking glorious as it leaks against my abdomen. I'm going to be impaled with that and I can't fucking wait.

"I hate that I want you," Potter says, staring down at me, his face contorted with lust.

I can't help moaning as he presses in against me; the feel of his skin touching mine is making me feel just a little crazy. "Then that makes two of us. But I'm used to hating myself. You get used to it," I tell him, my voice hoarse from the effort of trying to maintain my control. I curl my hand around Potter's neck, his hair soft between my fingers, and lead him back down to me, tipping my head up to meet his, our lips meeting again, one tender moment before the storm hits and I wrap my legs around his waist and buck up into him.

He mutters something and my arse tingles. _Fuck_, wandless charms. Sometimes I forget how powerful he really is.

I've been with men before, of course I have. Blaise and I were quite the horny teenagers at school before it all went to shit, and since then, well... I've not exactly been chaste. There's been no one since Potter and I got paired together, not even before the _incident_. It worries me that that might mean something, that Potter has spoiled me for everyone else, but then, after the wedding there can't be anyone else. Astoria knows what I am, but I promised her, once we are married there will be no one else for me. I don't love her, but I do respect her, and that's what pure-blood unions are based on: mutual respect and shared goals.

His fingers breach me, slick and wet, curling inside me, and fuck, it's glorious. I want this, him – I want him in me, I want it to be rough and hard and utterly without mercy. I dig my nails into his arse and pull him closer, I hear myself say, "Come_on_, Potter, I'm bored here!" like anything is ever boring with Potter. "I'm ready."

He sits back on his heels then, my legs falling to his sides, and Merlin, he looks fucking gorgeous, all wild hair and sweat slicked skin, his eyes greedy upon me and I'm his. Hate is the last thing I'm feeling right now. I reach down and take my cock into my hand, bucking up into my fist.

"Come on, Potter, do I have to do all the work?"

He growls, and his hands slide under my buttocks and he pulls me forward, hooks my legs over his shoulders and bats my hand away from my cock. "Bossy git," he says, lines up his cock and breaches me. I try to relax, it's tight and he's not small, but he pushes and I bite my lip to quiet myself. He leans forward and my knees are almost bracketing my head as he starts to move.

I watch his face as he fucks me and commit it to memory, because this is a one-time deal. It has to be. He's beautiful in his intensity, in his passion and, best, in his ecstasy as he finally comes, besting me by a couple of minutes; my come is already cooling on my stomach between us.

My legs drop down and he kneels between them, breathing heavily, his hooded eyes watching me as I try to gather myself and fail miserably. It's gone, the hate I used to feel; long before today, I finally realise. I've been lying to myself for a long time. In its place is something else, something that flutters in my chest and has absolutely no business doing so.

"Fuck," Harry says, dropping his forehead to rest against mine and closing his eyes.

I have to agree with him. 

* * *

><p>I was fooling myself if I thought I could leave it there; that once would be enough. We spend the next two weeks stealing time, usually at Potter's house because I'm still living at the Manor and, despite the trials and the life debts, Potter still isn't welcome there by my father.<p>

I can't get enough of him; I'm like an addict and the more I get, the more I want.

The wedding is a week away and things are starting to happen, although Astoria's mother has most of it in hand. I'm supposed to go for a final robe fitting at La Mode this morning, but it's Saturday, and Harry's still sleeping and I don't want to leave him. I like to watch the rise and fall of his chest and the way his lashes flutter, long and inky black, on his cheeks. I like it when he starts to wake up and he opens his eyes and looks at me for the first time. He smiles every time.

He smiles, we kiss, and more sex ensues.

There can be none of that today. If I don't leave now I'll be late.

I try to extricate myself, slowly, and I've dressed and almost made it to the door when Harry says, "Where are you going?"

We haven't discussed this yet. It's not a secret, it's just we've been busy with other things, and when we're not working, if we're together, we're either fucking or avoiding. Turning to face him I say, "I've got a fitting in twenty minutes, I can't be late."

Harry reaches for his glasses from the side and pushes himself up on his elbows. "Can't you cancel it and come back to bed?" The sheet has fallen to his waist and I know damn well that he's naked under there. Damn. What I wouldn't give to accept his offer.

I shake my head. "Potter, the wedding is a week today. I can't skip this."

"What wedding?"

Is he serious?

"The wedding of the year, of course," I joke, but I feel like there's a cloud hovering above my head waiting to release hell. "The Greengrass-Malfoy –"

Potter's expression goes from open and teasing to shocked hurt, to completely blank. "It's next week? I didn't realise."

"I haven't tried to make a secret of it, Potter."

"Right, of course," he says, turning his gaze to his lap, or rather, anywhere but at me. "Then you need to go, don't you?"

"Potter, I –" I don't know why, but I can't just leave like this. He's always known I was engaged, so I don't understand the hurt.

"You wouldn't want to be late," he interrupts, dropping back down onto his back.

I know a dismissal when I hear one, and I flee. 

* * *

><p>The morning can't pass quickly enough for me, but Astoria wants us to have lunch and I can't think of an excuse quickly enough. She's excited, not because she's marrying <em>me<em>, she doesn't love me anymore than I love her, but she's bought into the dream of the classic pure-blood wedding and I endure two hours of who is sitting where and detailed menu descriptions and at the end of it all I still don't give a fuck.

I don't care about any of it; I just want to get back to Harry. Time is running out for us and I've never felt it more than I do today.

There's no sign of Harry when I arrive at Grimmauld Place. The wards are still keyed to let me in, so I decide to wait. He's got one of those Muggle television things, and I like watching it, even though I tell him I don't because it annoys him, and I settle down and switch it on.

He doesn't come back that night, and I wake up with a stiff neck and a headache after falling asleep on the sofa, with Potter standing over me holding a steaming mug of coffee which he holds out for me and I take with a grateful sigh. I feel like shit.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry asks at the same time I say, "Where have you been?"

We stare at each other and he answers first. "I was with Ginny," he says.

Now, I'm not stupid: the female Weasley has had had her eye on Harry since our school days, and although the relationship never picked up again after the war, she still sniffs around him with any chance she gets, even if lately she can't have been getting very much attention at all because he's been with me pretty much all the time, but hearing him say it makes me want to vomit. I haven't felt this jealous since – I never have.

"Why?" I'm inviting the pain, I know I am, and Merlin, I need it, need him to say he's making a go of it with her, then maybe I can let this go and get married next week and live the life I'm supposed to live instead of _hoping_ that he's going to stop me from going through with it. I'll become the pure-blood husband and father, doing my 'duty', and I'll be reasonably content, maybe; but I'll never be happy, not without Harry.

I've fucking well fallen in love with the bastard. Look at him, he's so… _Harry_.

He sits on the end of the sofa and pulls my feet onto his lap, staring ahead as though he hasn't heard my question.

"She's in love with me," he finally says into the tense silence. "I could reach out and take her and have the family I've always wanted."

No, no – _no_; over my dead body. "You can't do that, Harry. You can't marry someone you don't love." As soon as I've said it I realise the implications of my own words. _Did you do it, Harry? Did you reach out and take her? Were you in her arms last night?_ I'm holding my breath, waiting for the answer, but when Harry finally speaks I realise I never said it out loud.

"Are you telling me you love Astoria?" Harry gives an empty laugh. "You realise that when you mentioned the wedding yesterday that that was the first time you'd mentioned her since we've been working together?"

I don't know how to answer. He's right. I love _him_. There's always been something between us; this moment was inevitable, wasn't it?

"You've been sleeping with me for weeks. A man who loves his fiancée wouldn't do that."

I can't speak. My throat is thick like I'm going to cry. I'm still caught up with images of Harry and Ginny Weasley. I wonder briefly if it's possible to die from jealousy. "Are you – Have you and the – Ginny – are you together now?"

"She kissed me, last night," he says, far too casually for my liking, and I yank my feet from his lap and sit back against the arm rest with my knees tucked under my chin as though they can protect me from his words. "She kissed me and I didn't push her away." He turns to look at me, and his expression folds me in half and I have to look away, dropping my face to my knees.

"I'm happy for you," I say, muffled against my fingers, such a miserable lie. "I'm sure you'll have many ginger babies and live happily ever after."

"Like you and Astoria?"

I don't even bother with the obvious response of '_I_ won't be having anything ginger, Potter', even though it's on the tip of my tongue. My lips won't move. Instead I nod, although I doubt we will have more than one child if the first born is a boy and someone to carry on the Malfoy name.

"I didn't fuck her," Harry says. "I could have, but I didn't."

So, what does he want, a bloody award? I look up again and he's still staring at me, his green eyes now intent upon me, and he must be able to see the jealousy written on my face. "Are you saving it for the wedding night?" I ask with bitter sarcasm. His expression twists into one of defeat.

"Yes, Malfoy, that's exactly what I'm doing." He stands and walks to the door, looking back over his shoulder at me; his face is now blank. "I'm going for a shower. If you could be gone when I get back that would be helpful."

I stare at the door after he's gone, a horrible feeling of finality clawing its way through me. He wants me gone. He's going to marry the Weaselette and I'm going to marry Astoria and try to forget I ever loved Harry Potter.

I should go. I'm supposed to be having lunch with Astoria and both of our sets of parents today: my future family.

My future. _Without Harry._

Upstairs I hear the shower turn on. Harry's up there, alone. How does he feel about this? When he thinks about me marrying Astoria, does he die a little bit inside? Does he even care? Does he love me as I now realise I love him?

What the hell am I doing just sitting here?

The shower turns off.

I take the stairs two at a time, bursting into Harry's bedroom, determined not to lose this new-found courage, and stop dead.

Harry's standing in front of me with a small towel around his waist and a surprised expression. Fuck, he's beautiful.

"I don't want you to marry Weasley," I spurt. "Harry, please –"

"Were you even listening to me before? I have no plans to marry Ginny, I don't love her and you were right, I can't marry someone I don't love," he replies as I step in closer. I notice that his eyes are rimmed in red. Has he been crying? Is it terrible that I hope he has, because that bodes well for me? "Apparently you have no such qualms, but whatever, it's your life. Now, I thought I asked you to go."

He turns his back on me again and walks over to the wardrobe.

"I love you." There, I've said it. Harry stills and turns back to face me, eyeing me warily.

"What do you want me to say?" he asks sadly. "You're getting married in less than a week, Draco."

"How do you feel about me, Harry?"

Something chases across his face, pain, hope, fear – it finally settles onto _love_, I'm certain of it. He swallows and stares down at his feet and I wait, I need to hear this, and if it's rejection then I'll leave, go and meet my fiancée for lunch, and on Monday I'll ask for a new partner at work. I'll still have to see him, but at least we won't be together all day every day.

He looks up then, and closes the distance between us until we're toe to toe and I can see the differing shades of green in his eyes. "Marry me, Draco," he whispers. "Marry _me_." 

* * *

><p>It's a huge scandal when it hits the papers. Draco Malfoy breaks off his engagement just days before the wedding and elopes with Harry Potter. I don't care about any of it though. I'm sorry that Astoria was hurt, that my family is disappointed in me, yes, but most of all I'm sorry that this took us so long.<p>

First I hated that I wanted him, then that I needed him, but I don't regret that I love him, because he loves me too and being loved by Harry Potter is the best thing in the world.


End file.
